Sleep
by Lyraeinne
Summary: Anakin's having some trouble getting to sleep. Jacen offers to help. Sort of. NJO-era, Jacen, Anakin, gen.


**Title:** Sleep

**Author:** Lyraeinne

**Characters/Pairing:** Jacen, Anakin.

**Rating:** PG

**Era:** Early New Jedi Order.

**Word Count: **847

It only took a few moments to find Anakin curled sideways on the sofa downstairs. Jacen stayed in the doorway for a moment, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes, and the stack of flimsies, impeccably organized, by his feet. Flimsies he was only pretending to read, if the darkness in the room was any hint.

"Hey," Jacen said quietly, in case he was actually asleep.

"Hey," Anakin said, without jerking like someone who'd been woken up abruptly. He sat up a little and squinted, looking instinctively at his wrist for his chronometer. "What time is it?"

"Way past bedtime," Jacen said. He paused. "Have you been here all night?"

"Couldn't sleep," Anakin said. He folded in a little more, pulling the blanket tighter around his small, still-bony shoulders. "And I had some stuff to read anyway. No big deal."

As dumb as it was to lie to your Force-sensitive brother about something so painfully visible it probably would have been obvious to a Gamorrean, the polite thing to do would be to let it slide for once and go back upstairs. Jacen worked for a moment at polite.

"Our room's cold," he said finally. He reached for his robe where it was lying across the back of the couch and put it on. "Really cold."

"Sorry," Anakin said. He rubbed a hand across his face. "I'll fix it if you want me to."

"It's fine," Jacen said. "I'll just sleep in this."

"Good," Anakin said. He looked down at the untouched stack of flimsies by his knee. "Well if… you know. If you get too cold just come find me."

"Sure," Jacen said. He hesitated a moment longer and picked at the elastic of his sleep pants. Ah, kriff it. "You're having nightmares again? Like you used to?"

"No," Anakin said firmly. He looked away, pretending to focus intently on the dotted expanse of cityscape outside the window. He brushed a hand through his unruly hair. "Yes."

"Okay," Jacen said. He sat down carefully on the opposite side of the sofa. "Well if… listen, if you want to talk about it… Like we used to, I mean…"

Anakin turned back to look at him, his expression bordering on incredulous. "I thought I was stupid, arrogant and pedantic?"

"Well, you are," Jacen said. He blinked. "What does that have to do with this?"

Anakin shook his head, rubbing his hand slowly over his eyes again. "You know what? Just forget it."

"Fine," Jacen said. He got up off the couch and started back towards the stairs. "Don't bang the door when you come in."

"I don't _get_ you," Anakin said, after Jacen had already gotten up to the fifth stair and was almost out of reasonable, non-force sensitive earshot. Within the bounds of propriety to ignore it and keep moving, but the hard, unexpected venom in Anakin's voice stopped him cold.

"You know what?" he said. He turned and stepped back onto the third stair, frustration welling up in his chest like lead. "I don't get _you_. We disagree about one thing, and you act like we aren't even _brothers_ anymore. I try to help you, and you just-"

"It's not one thing," Anakin said acidly. "It's the fact that you're so convinced you're right you can't _listen_ to me. About anything."

"I don't see why I should listen to someone who doesn't seem to want to live to be twenty," Jacen said. "Have you listened to _yourself_ lately, Anakin?"

"Whatever," Anakin said, getting up off the couch and shoving his feet angrily into his slippers. "I don't have to listen to _this_, that's for sure." He stalked past Jacen into the kitchen and slammed the door.

"The _kitchen_?" Jacen said incredulously. He pushed at the door, and found it unyielding. "Hey! Don't Force block the door! I came down here for a drink, you little jerk!"

"Then you're going to have to break the door!" Anakin shouted, sounding farther away than before. Probably heading over to the food prep machine to get a Jiwa juice. Nitwad.

"Fine, stay in there all night. See if I care," he stepped away from the door and seriously weighed the satisfaction of smashing it against the inevitable airborne splinters, just for a moment. One good telekinetic shove would do it. But there was no more noise from the kitchen, and the splinters won. He went back into the living room and threw himself across the couch instead.

There was silence for a few long moments, and then the door opened. Anakin came into the room and stopped next to the sofa, his shoulders hunched and closed. "Get a drink," he said.

"I'm not really thirsty, you idiot," Jacen said. "I just said that to-"

"Whatever," Anakin said, still not meeting Jacen's gaze. "Are you going back to bed?"

Jacen sighed and sat up. "Sit down," he said. "Tell me what's going on. Then tomorrow we'll pretend this conversation never happened and go back to hating each other. Okay?"

Something in Anakin seemed to give just a little, and he slid forward and sank down onto the sofa, resting his head in his hands. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay."


End file.
